Grant and I stared at them too, fascinated. They were even and pretty, a fragile pink-and-white toy in her big, roughened hands. "Seems like it makes me feel better to look at 'em," she confessed. "Makes it so I ain't so lonesome for Rodney. That's my hubby. He gave me these teeth, for our tenth weddin' anniversary. I was gonna get some cheap old ugly things, but he said no, the best wasn't none too good for his girl, and so he bought 'em for me. They're the--the nicest thing I ever had in my life!" Tears were pouring out of Mrs. Watkins' lovely dark eyes, streaming over the flushed, coarse skin of her cheeks. "Cripes, I wisht Rodney was here!" she sobbed. "I'd settle for Doctor Adams," Grant said. He glanced again at his watch. '"He should be here by now. I wonder if his car could have broken down?" "Maybe--maybe you should go look for him," I said hesitantly. "I think I will." Grant moved toward the door. "I'll call his home first, and if he's been gone awhile I'll start out looking for him." Mrs. Watkins replaced her teeth, wiped her eyes, and beamed at me. "I'm awful moody, an awful sentimental," she admitted. Eugene edged to the door behind Grant. "I'm gonna go with him, ma. 'Bye, ma'am." "The kid's gittin' scared," Mrs. Watkins remarked, chuckling, when the door had closed behind them. "So's your hubby. Men are all alike, ain't they? Pantywaists, when you git right down to it. Pantywaists!" Her great booming laugh filled the cabin, while I tittered politely and wondered where she got the idea that men had exclusive rights to the term. My legs felt as though they were made of jello that hadn't quite set, and my hands were useless, quivering hunks of ice. "How long do you think it will be," I began; "I mean, you've had so many, maybe you can almost tell..." "How soon I'm gonna have the kid? Cripes, it ain't gonna be long, honey, I can tell you that! Wouldn' it be a fit if I had it before the doc come?" I collapsed onto a chair. Mrs. Watkins looked at me sympathetically, and clucked her huge red, wet tongue. Her tangled grey hair formed a rough halo around her face. "Don't you worry none, honey," she comforted. "The doc'll git here all right." Then she had another pain. Watching her, I thought I had never felt so alone in my life--dreadfully alone, although there was one human being in the room with me and strong indications that there would very soon be another. I began to review the pitifully little I knew about officiating at births--just in case. First, you had to be sure the baby cried, so it could start breathing properly. Second, you had to tie its umbilical cord. That was as much as I knew. I wiped my forehead and glanced at Mrs. Watkins. She was gazing at me now, her dark eyes full of compassion. I had a feeling that if a stove and a pan had been handy, she would have climbed out of bed to make me some hot tea.